Lucifer's Children: Book 1
by rinellis2y5
Summary: A chronicled history of the angels and demons of Supernatural. Sam and Dean do not feature.
1. Chapter 1

**Book 1**

_**In the beginning**_

Chapter 1

The year had no number. The earth had no age. The planet shifted in endless space and Lucifer sat back on his heels to watch the sun rise for the first time.

"It's beautiful, Father," he whispered. It didn't matter that he was alone on this hilltop – he knew his Creator could hear him.

"Isn't it?"

Lucifer started and leapt to his feet, spinning around on his heel – apparently he was not as alone as he'd thought. Michael strode towards him lazily, eyes fixed on the as-yet-nameless colors beginning to wash over the horizon. "Brother," called Lucifer, a smile lighting up his face. "Have you not seen it before? I thought for certain he would have shown you…"

"No," replied Michael with a chuckle as he reached Lucifer's side. "I am only one star older than you, and this new… this _earth_, has barely had time to breathe. We are the first, little brother. The very first."

Lucifer turned back to gaze out across the landscape. "Gabriel will be furious."

"Gabriel will be fine."

For a few long moments, they were quiet, huddled together despite the countless empty miles surrounding them, watching the sky begin to show the first hint of day-color. When the light finally broke over the dark, un-seeable line that was the horizon, however, Lucifer noticed that something had changed. Abruptly he grabbed for Michael's arm, crying, "Brother, look – the ground is moving!"

"The ground was already moving, Lucifer," said Michael, bewildered. "The whole planet spins. They all do."

"No – no, not the planet, the ground! Look… these… these life-forms, they sense the sun! Watch the light run through them, Michael, watch!"

Michael peered down the path of Lucifer's frantically pointing finger, his eyes squinting as he tried to see what Lucifer saw – and then he saw it. The life-forms on the ground, the plants and grass, Father had called them, were practically _vibrating_ with the rise of the sun. In the silence of the newborn planet, you could almost _hear_ them.

"They are singing, Lucifer," Michael whispered, breath ragged with awe. "They are singing to Him."

The two brothers, children though they were, felt old surrounded by so much new life. The light slowly filled the sky, end to end, covering Lucifer and his brother in the most delightful warmth he'd ever felt, and without saying a word, they both reached for each other's hands. Lucifer felt tears rise up in his eyes and Michael, Michael who always knew what Lucifer needed, squeezed his hand tightly.

"Gabriel will be furious," Lucifer repeated with a hoarse, wet laugh.

Michael smiled and covered Lucifer's hand with both of his. "Gabriel will be fine."

_(break)_

Gabriel was _furious_.

"I can't _believe_ you two," he spat, splitting the tree branch he'd been trying to climb without his wings in half petulantly. Where it fell to the ground, a sapling began to push itself through the soil. The four of them, eldest of the angels, were gathered in their favorite clearing in their Father's garden; Michael leaned contentedly against the tree Gabriel was trying to climb, while Raphael sat a few branches over their heads, a smug smile just barely showing itself on her mouth. Lucifer had been lying on the ground, his hands under his head, chattering on about the marvels of the new paradise Father had created for them, but as soon as the first leaves of the new tree began to sprout, he leapt to his feet and hurried over to watch.

"That's a sign of a distinct lack of faith, Gabriel," said Raphael, her face straight as a poker. Michael and Lucifer chuckled, though, Michael reaching out to tug a lock of Gabriel's mane affectionately as Lucifer bounced excitedly around the tiny new tree, marveling at its sudden appearance.

"Don't be angry, Gabriel," said Michael, biting back his smile when he saw his little brother's face. "We'll get to go, all four of us, very soon."

"_When_?" Gabriel whined. He'd been looking forward to the new earth for an orbit, it seemed. He loved Heaven, of course, but earth seemed to have endless possibilities – and the science of it, the easy manipulation of the matter in the air, that Father had told him would be possible, made his heart pound with excitement every time he thought about it. Perhaps, Gabriel thought, Father might let him stay there for a long time, and experiment and play. "I want to go _now_."

"Be patient."

"I _am_ patient."

"You are not." The same smug smile was still in place on Raphael's face as she slid down the branches and landed with a thump on the ground at Michael's feet. "Father blessed you with many qualities, brother, but patience is not one of them." Michael coughed to hide his laugh, but Lucifer threw back his head – the sound of it was so pleasing even Gabriel had to smile. "If you ask me," Raphael continued, lying down where Lucifer had been moments before and stretching languidly, "_Next time_ anyone goes, it should be just Gabriel and me, and you two can stay behind and _tend the gardens_." Gabriel laughed in agreement, his mood already lifting.

"No!" cried Lucifer, rushing to grab Gabriel's hands in his own. He'd been ecstatic ever since their visit to the new earth and his mood showed no signs of dropping. "We have to all go, _together_. The two of you can go alone another time but… but I want to see your faces when you see the flowers sing!"

"Flowers?" asked Michael, frowning.

"The – the little, colorful round things. That came out of the grass."

"They're called flowers?"

"Well, I…" Lucifer rubbed his neck and looked down sheepishly. "I sort of… named them myself. The way their leaves opened for the sun reminded me of an angel spreading his wings for the first time, and we call that –"

"Flowering, Lucifer, we know," said Raphael. She and Michael exchanged grins. "So I guess they're called flowers, now."

"I'm sorry – I just thought of them as flowers one time and then after that I couldn't think of them as anything else. Do you think Father will be mad?"

"Have you ever seen Father get mad?" asked Michael in a reassuring voice. "_Gabriel_ gets mad."

"Shut up, dirt-breath," snapped Gabriel with a playful shove.

"Then it's settled," said Raphael over Michael and Lucifer's laughter. "We'll go together. The four of us. Soon."

"_How_ soon?" demanded Gabriel.

Michael wrapped an affectionate arm around Gabriel's shoulders. "Soon enough. After all, I don't think Lucifer can wait too much longer, either."

Lucifer grinned and ran a sheepish finger over the leaves of the sapling. "Just wait till you see it, Brother," he murmured, his eyes far away. "It's more than creation. It's… _art_."

_(break)_

"How did it go?"

_ Splendidly. They loved it. I really do think they're pleased, Father._

Emmanuel, Creator, and Pneuma sat together. It was what they did. They sat and they spoke, though no one else, not even Michael or Lucifer, heard what they said. No one even knew Emmanuel existed, actually, and most only knew of Pneuma through the sheer gravity of Her presence, which fell heavy on the heart though She remained invisible to everyone but Her source. Creator was the physical one, the one the angels could see and hear with the ears He had shaped for them. Now He sat, His hands open on His lap and His eyes closed to block out the constantly shifting colors of the throne room. Emmanuel sat to His right, Pneuma to His left, and they spoke.

"What did they find pleasing?"

_The photosynthesis,_ Pneuma murmured with a satisfied little shiver. _I'm glad. I was particularly proud of that one_.

"As was I," replied Creator. "Was there anything else they seemed to like?"

_All of it_, grinned Emmanuel, ducking as Creator swatted at him with a feigned grimace of irritation, _But Michael particularly seemed to enjoy the colors_.

"The colors. We must make more colors. Which do We have so far?"

_Blue, pink, orange, yellow, red. Gray._ Pneuma chewed her lip thoughtfully. _I particularly like the gray. Zachariah has concocted something he calls "green". It's lovely, I think it will fit perfectly for the leaves and the grass. And I've been thinking…_

"Yes?"

_We've mixed together colors and created new ones, but… what if We created shades?_

_ Shades as in shadows?_ Emmanuel asked.

_Yes, exactly. What if We added shadows to the colors – to make them darker?_

"Lucifer won't like that. He does have such an affinity for light."

_Lucifer will love anything We give him_, replied Pneuma, her voice warm with affection. _Besides, even if he doesn't, We can always give him the opposite – extract as much darkness as We can, make the colors lighter, brighter._

_ Oh, he'll love that,_ said Emmanuel delightedly. _We have to try it, Father._

"I'll have Metatron inform Zachariah. And perhaps We should let Gabriel help – he wasn't happy with Me when he found out I'd send the older two without him, and he's been wanting a part in this since the beginning."

_Why didn't You send them?_ asked Emmanuel, frowning. _Gabriel's so fascinated by the chemistry, and Raphael's been jabbering about ecosystems since Zachariah explained what they were. We won't hear the end of it for letting them miss that first sunrise for a long time._

"One day, Michael and Lucifer will be the princes of this world," said Creator gravely. "They must learn to love this planet and all its life before anything – even before Us."

_The humans will need all the love We can give_. Pneuma's voice took on a different note when She spoke the word "humans" – as low and soft as ever, but there was an edge to it, as if She was holding back excitement. _No one is more loving than Lucifer, or more caring than Michael. Of course Gabriel will provide protection and Raphael wisdom, but more than anything the humans will need love. That is why Michael and Lucifer had to see the world first. They have to love it, to want to care for it, at all costs – for the humans will not make the job easy._

Creator nodded. "They must be nothing but love. That is the only thing they will all be born with, no matter what. Physically, they will hunger, they will thirst, they will ache, they will lust; but the condition of their souls will be their doing and their doing only."

_But are they not to be in Our image? _asked Emmanuel.

"They may look like us, but only We can be God. Their forms resemble Ours, their DNA is directly from My own hands, but they will be flawed. Imperfect.

_Beautiful_.

"Yes. Beautiful. But the true mark of Our image, the stamp We will leave on each and every one, will be the ability to love, and the ability to create from that love as We create from Our love."

_Never forget, Emmanuel,_ whispered Pneuma, _That that is the reason We began all this in the first place. The need to be loved._

Emmanuel shook his head. _I will never forget_.

"We will send Gabriel and Raphael next sunrise. For now, Emmanuel, find Metatron and send him to Zachariah with the new orders. I want Gabriel to tell me what he thinks of the shaded colors."

_ Yes, Father_.

Emmanuel vanished, and a second later Pneuma flickered away as well. Creator opened His eyes and looked around. The throne room and all the surrounding heavens were beautiful, but this – this new earth, these humans, were going to be His masterpiece. Everything was falling into place. Deep inside His endless being, Creator felt the well of suppressed excitement stir. At last, the time was coming. At last, His true children would walk beside Him.

He, the Alpha and Omega, the Father of stars and angels, the King of all the realms… _He_… couldn't wait.


	2. Chapter 1 (cont)

Michael met with the Father on the banks of the marble river. This was his favorite spot in all of Heaven. Zachariah had told him stories of how marble would be on earth, in the future – hard as rock, sculpted only by a master of the physical hand; but here the marble flowed like breath and water, swirling between the soft banks and around the bare feet of the cherubim as they played.

Michael watched on his own for a long while, settling arguments and governing contests, before the Father came. When He did all thought of games was forgotten and He and Michael found themselves surrounded by several dozen of the youngest of the angels, all round faces, rosy cheeks and softly curling hair as they beamed up at their Lord, each voice chirping out its own greeting to Him at once. Michael tried not to frown as he listened to them. It wasn't fair, but he had always found the cherubs a little annoying. Their naturally joyous temperaments seemed forced, put on; it was Lucifer's job to find delight in everything, not theirs. Still, Father loved them, so Michael's patience was endless.

Still, he _had_ hoped to get Father to himself for a while today. Apparently the Creator sensed his displeasure, for after a few minutes of quietly listening to each child and expressing His pleasure, He kissed the nearest to Him on the forehead and told them to run along and play somewhere else. Obediently, they scampered off – pausing a moment to bow respectfully to their oldest brother before they did so. Michael felt his irritation dissipate instantly.

"Better?" as Creator with a wry smile, turning to walk along the bank, His hands tucked behind His back.

"I'm sorry, Father," replied Michael, embarrassed as he turned to follow Him. "I shouldn't be so rude."

"It's forgiven. I know how busy I've been with the plans for the new earth these past rotations."

"You are omnipresent, sir," said Michael quietly.

"Pneuma is omnipresent, my son," was the gentle answer. "Here I take a physical form and travel by foot, not by thought. But your Mother is always with you."

_But I can't see Her_, Michael couldn't help but think. Whether his Father had heard this or not, He made no sign, so Michael replied simply, "Yes, Father. Always."

"On the new earth, Michael, I shall become like Her – a spirit, a presence. An _omni_presence. We will all be able to come and go as we please, Me, you, your brothers and sisters; and wherever you go there, I will always be with you." Creator took Michael's hand in His own. "Always."

Michael's heart warmed at the thought. "I look forward to it, Father."

"So tell Me," Father said, "What do you think of the new earth?"

Michael smiled. "You know what I think."

"Yes, but I want to hear it from you."

"I…" Michael held out his hands helplessly. "I think it's beautiful. Inspiring."

"Could you love it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Could you love it?" He repeated. "As you love home?"

Could he love it? What was Father asking him? "I… It's not home…"

"But could you love it as if it were?"

"Father, forgive me, I don't understand."

Creator took a deep breath, the kind that knocked the younger angels off their feet because the power beneath was so palpable. "You are My son, Michael. My oldest son. I want to… to _give_ you something. I am more than capable of ruling the new earth and the heavens on My own, of course –"

"F-Father?" Michael stammered.

"— but you cannot stay here with nothing to do with yourself but referee the cherubim for the rest of eternity."

Michael felt his heart pounding. "I – Father, I have no complaints about my station here –"

"I know you don't." Creator stopped in His tracks and placed a reassuring hand on His son's shoulder. "I know you don't. Nevertheless, only so many thousands of years can pass before I stop calling you a child."

Michael sucked in a breath. "What are You asking of me?"

"I wish to give you and Lucifer rule over this new world, with Gabriel and Raphael at your sides. You will have incredible power there, the power to control and manipulate in ways no one but I can here. I built it to be ruled by you, and no one else. But adjustments can be made, if you don't think you're ready."

"What… what would qualify me to be ready for such a station, Father?"

"Could you love it?" and Creator's voice was grave, and His eyes delved into Michael's as if He could see through them, down to the very heart of Michael's Grace. "Could you love it, with all your heart, all your strength, love it… and _all_ its life forms… with everything you have?"

"I… I think Lucifer could…"

"That is not the answer to the question I asked."

"I love _You_ with all my heart, my Lord."

"Michael."

Michael swallowed very hard, clenched his fists to stop them from trembling. "I… I think…" He sucked in a deep breath, forced himself to say it. For Father. For Lucifer. "Yes." Firmly. Like a prince should. "Yes. I think I could. I think I will. I…" No, don't falter. "I know I shall try."

Slowly, the corners of Creator's eyes crinkled into a smile, the smile that sent pride and awe shivering through the hearts of every angel that saw it, and, now, brought tears to Michael's eyes with love and gratitude. "I know you will, My son. My boy."

His son. His boy. Father was proud. Michael beamed.

_(break)_

Zachariah was in his element.

Sure, he was a businessman, and sure, he was basically in charge of _all of Heaven_ – not including Creator, Michael, and the other archangels, of course – but at heart, Zachariah knew, he was a scientist.

Chemistry was his specialty. He could deconstruct an atom by hand without looking at it, build it back up again just _slightly_ different and create an explosion that would wipe out an earth continent. Of course, on earth, most of these atoms wouldn't have that much power; but still, he was proud.

And now, thanks to his Father, it was his _whole life_. Creating a new element here, adding DNA to a puffin bird there, darkening the shade of a new color somewhere in the middle. Everything per Father's requests, of course. Really, Zachariah could create nothing – only take what Creator had given him and mix-and-match, hope for good results. But he loved it, loved the questions and the uncertainty of every result. And, to be honest, he loved the power that came with such a position. To have seraphim working under him, bowing respectfully as they hurried to obey his commands – it was nice. Very nice.

And Father was going to reward him when they were finished. Perhaps a lab on Mars. Mars was Zachariah's favorite of the new planets.

On the corner table, Woman stirred in her sleep. She was incomplete, not ready yet – there must not have been enough Peace in her last feeding.

"Now, now, little creator," Zachariah murmured soothingly, hurrying over to rest a gentle hand on her forehead. "Not quite time to wake up yet – a few more days here and then you'll be down there. You'll be home. Now, back to sleep."

Under his warm fingertips, Woman stilled. "Back to sleep, little creator. Little woman. Your time will come soon."

Sound asleep, Woman smiled. Zachariah twisted a new texture into her hair. Black curls over dark skin, as Father had commanded. She would be beautiful.

But Woman did not know this. All Woman knew was that her time, whenever it came, would not be coming soon enough.

She wanted to _wake_.

_(break)_

"My name is Lucifer," he whispered to the baby creature in his palm. "Do you have a name?"

_Velociraptor_, came the answer. Father was listening. Father was always listening.

"Hello, velociraptor," Lucifer cooed, stroking its scaly beak with one finger. "Where's your family?"

_His family left him. He was too small_.

Lucifer muffled his instinctive cry of outrage, determined not to disturb the baby. Zachariah's single-cells had only just begun to morph into animals last time he was here – now an earth age had come and gone and these strange, fascinating creatures roamed the earth as if they owned it, and Lucifer knew nothing about them. "Why would they leave their child?" he demanded, clutching the velociraptor to his chest fiercely. "He can't help that he's small."

_Other animals will try to eat the babies_, came the reply, _and all the others are big enough to stand a chance. Not this one._

"But that's not fair!"

_No_.

Lucifer took a deep breath and held out his finger for the creature to gnaw on. "Then why did you make him so small," he mumbled, unable to hide his anger.

There was a long silence. The animal scrabbled to bite through Lucifer's skin instinctively, which was of course impossible. Lucifer felt his heart begin to pound – what if he had finally angered Father? Then Creator said, quietly, _I didn't_.

Lucifer was too stunned to answer.

_Its mother did_.

"I don't… I don't understand."

_I shall explain it to you very soon, my son,_ and Creator's voice was warm with affection. Lucifer sighed in relief. _For now, play. Find Gabriel, help him with his experiments. When you come home, we will talk_.

"Yes, Father," said Lucifer, too relieved to argue.

And he obeyed. They stayed for many earth years, watching the dinosaurs, as Gabriel called them, sleep and hunt and fight and play. But the bitter taste remained in Lucifer's mouth where it had formed at his Father's words.

_I didn't create them_.

What could that possibly mean? Of course Father created them.

Father created everything.

_(break)_

"I named them flowers, Father."

"Flowers, like the first time an angel spreads his wings?"

"Yes, exactly!" Lucifer was delighted his Father understood. Since his return, he had not brought up their conversation from before, and neither had He. Lucifer wasn't anxious to revisit those strange feelings that had stirred in his stomach then, and Father seemed unworried. Lucifer was glad.

"Flowers," Creator repeated, thoughtfully rolling the word across His tongue as though testing it out. Immediately three or four of them popped up from the soil at His feet, light pink and reaching desperately for His face. Creator laughed, the laugh that made Lucifer's heart well up with shared joy. "I like it. Well done, my boy." Stopping where He was, He stooped down to pluck them from the ground. "What would you call these ones?"

Lucifer frowned. "Uhm… flowers, Father."

Creator laughed again. "No, no, Lucifer – _these_ flowers do not look like _any other flowers_. What should we call flowers that look like this?"

"I…" Lucifer took one of them in his fingers, chewing on his lip. "I think… perhaps… since they seem to love the light so much… we ought to call them daisies, like the day." Zachariah had only just explained about night and day – he'd already understood the concept of rotations, but liked that the dark and light times had specific names.

"Daisies," Creator repeated, His brow furrowed. "Interesting. I would have called them Lucies. Like Lucifer."

Lucifer turned a bright shade of red and Creator threw back His head, laughing uproariously. "Don't call me Lucy," said Lucifer petulantly; still, he couldn't hide his proud smile.

Creator threw an arm around His son's shoulder, pulling him tight against His side and tucking one of the flowers behind his ear. "Right. Daisies they are, then."

Lucifer pressed his cheek into his Father's shoulder to hide his grin, and no more was said as they walked on. He wondered if Father would let him name all the flowers. He hoped so. He liked the flowers more than he liked the velociraptors. Flowers didn't abandon their young.


End file.
